


Hostile Takeover

by seductivembrace



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-14
Updated: 2012-08-14
Packaged: 2017-11-12 03:10:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,255
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/486010
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seductivembrace/pseuds/seductivembrace
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set in season 4, Xander is at the wrong place at the wrong time and suffers for it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Xander woke and tried to grope for the alarm clock that he’d thought had woken him. When his hand encountered nothing but cool tile, he cracked one eyelid open and took in his surroundings. 

Everything was bright… and white. Glaringly so. 

And cold. 

He glanced down at his body and had a mental freak out; he wore not a stitch of clothing. 

_What the hell?_  

“Ah, Hostile 23. You’re awake. Good.” 

Xander sat up awkwardly, hands strategically placed over his groin in a vain attempt to cover himself, and tried to find the source of the voice. A small monitor was installed in the upper left corner of the wall near the clear glass panel, and he blinked several times to bring the picture into focus. The face on the screen seemed familiar and he wracked his brain trying to figure out how he might know the woman. 

Images seemed to flood his consciousness. Him walking on campus on his way to see Willow, wondering if maybe he should have called first. Accidentally bumping into a woman who was in a hurry to get somewhere. A loud growl, followed almost immediately by a hairy beast jumping out of the bushes. Yelling at the woman to run, and fast. Pushing her – the same woman now staring at him with a cold smile and even colder eyes – out of harm’s way. 

He felt a dull ache in his left shoulder. Suddenly remembered being bitten. 

Shit.

_Oz!_  

Somehow his friend had gotten free from his cage. 

Which meant— 

“I’ve spent the majority of the night researching werewolves, Hostile 23,” the woman he’d instantly nicknamed The Bitch continued. “Unfortunately, most of it was conjecture and fanciful imagination. I plan to remedy that, however.” 

The way she said it, without a hint of emotion, made Xander shiver. She turned away briefly and nodded to someone off screen to her left. Then she was back, giving him her full attention, outlining what she had planned in the weeks before the next full moon. 

Xander felt like he was literally shrinking in on himself as the woman droned on and on about the experiments she planned on conducting. 

“It’s rather fortunate that second werewolf distracted the first, don’t you think. If not, well… But, I’ve no doubt my men will capture the other two soon.” 

At this point, Xander felt he’d much rather be dead than made to withstand what the lady had in store for him. Better quick and clean instead of enduring the type of torture the woman had outlined. 

He didn’t have time to dwell, because the door to his prison suddenly opened and three men decked out in camouflage and Kevlar filled the room. His eyes widened, and even without the lingering effects of his soldier possession, he could tell they weren’t your average GI Joes. 

“Say goodnight, Hostile 23,” the leader laughed; he took aim and fired his tranquilizer gun. 

Xander gasped in pain as the needle imbedded itself in his thigh. He yanked it out and tossed it aside, but it was too late. Already he could feel his body growing weaker. His eyes rolled up and his upper body collapsed onto the tile floor. 

Then everything went black. 

~*~*~*~*~ 

Spike woke up when booted feet drew near his cell. The soldiers bypassed him, though, to enter the latest victim’s cell and he felt a passing sympathy for the poor bugger, knowing what he had to look forward to – a day of being poked and prodded, samples of skin, hair, and blood taken for further study – before the real fun was due to begin. 

He wanted a cigarette since it would give him something to do to relieve the boredom. But, like his clothes, they’d been picked through and discarded. 

The gasp of pain, when it came, was overly loud in his ears. Then there was a bit of fumbling to get the prisoner secured to the stretcher now being brought into the room next door. A minute later, it was wheeled out, and Spike’s eyes widened on seeing what – or rather _who_ – it was. 

_Slayer’s gonna be mighty pissed when she finds out._  

Just when he thought to wonder why the military goons were experimenting on humans, Miss Head Mad Scientist – as he’d dubbed her – appeared on the small television screen. 

“Ah… Hostile 17. Good morning.” 

Spike snorted and rolled his eyes. “Spare me the false pleasantries, Bitch. What do you want?” 

“I see we’re going to have to work on your manners.” 

Spike laughed outright. “I’m a bloody demon. What the fuck do I need manners for?” 

Spike stood up and glared at the woman, uncaring that he was naked. His attitude was getting under her skin and he’d doubtless pay for it later, but in his mind, it was totally worth it. 

He watched as she pushed a button on the console in front of her, heard her snap out, “Agent Finn!” 

The small convoy outside stopped just past his cell and Spike could have groaned when the soldiers stepped away from the stretcher and headed towards him. The expressions on their faces guaranteed he was in for a world of pain. 

~*~*~*~*~ 

It was the scream of anguish, rather than the prodding being done to his own body, that pulled Xander from his drug-induced sleep. He ignored the pinch to his left arm as a needle was injected and blood samples were taken, instead trying to find the source of the yelling and cursing, craning his neck up off the work table. 

His eyes widened upon seeing someone – _Spike_? – being antagonized by two soldiers bearing tasers on the other side of the room. The vampire was hanging from the ceiling by manacles attached to his wrists and a length of steel chain, his feet barely touching the ground. His body was covered in bruises and scorched flesh; both eyes were swollen shut and his upper lip was bleeding profusely. 

“Stop!” Xander yelled; the hairs on the back of his neck were standing on end, both from the pitiful whimpering now emanating from the vampire and the electricity that seemed to hum on the air. All that came out, however, was a feeble croak thanks to his exceedingly dry mouth. 

He yanked at his restraints as the soldiers laughed and made taunting jeers at their captive, each taking turns either punching him or prodding him with their tasers, over and over until Xander could smell the distinct odor of burning flesh. 

“I need some help over here!” Xander heard. 

He ignored the voice and struggled harder, desperate to get free, and felt some inborn strength well up inside him. 

There was a distinctive ripping sound as one of his wrist restraints snapped and he sat up and shoved the technician drawing his blood away from him. He continued to pull at his remaining restraints and would have snapped another, but suddenly his body was subject to the soldiers’ tasers. 

An inhuman whine erupted in the back of his throat and it became a violent roar when it finally left his mouth. His hand shot out and he snatched one of the tasers with his free hand, turned it against the soldier that had been using it on him. 

The man went down like a sack of potatoes; the level on the tazer had been set to maximum. 

Xander grinned triumphantly, and out of the corner of his eye, noticed that Spike was struggling to get free while the remaining soldiers were occupied with trying to subdue him. 

It was just unfortunate that reinforcements arrived before either of them could manage it. 

He felt the tranquilizer dart enter his thigh, then another slammed into his chest, and the world went black again.


	2. 2

Xander wasn’t sure how much time had passed when he woke back in his cell. The white… everything, and the lack of windows made it impossible to determine if it was day or night. 

 _So much for thinking this was all a bad dream._  

There wasn’t a part of his body that didn’t ache and he cursed the nameless soldiers that had hurt him, vowed revenge once he got free. 

Not if… _when_. 

He refused to believe that he wouldn’t get out of his cell. If not by his own means – and admittedly, he was at a distinct disadvantage – then surely with the aid of Buffy and the gang. It was only a matter of time before they realized he was missing and come looking for him. 

His thoughts of rescue were interrupted by The Bitch as her pinched face filled the small monitor. 

“Hostile 23. I hope today will be a better day than yesterday.” 

“Or what? Your goon squad will poke me with their glow sticks? Screw you.” 

Xander heard a bark of laughter coming from next door and guessed that it was Spike. Or another demon that had no problems understanding English. 

The Bitch’s mouth thinned, and Xander could tell she was struggling to hold on to her temper. 

 _Probably never had anyone talk back to her._  

“I had hoped this would go much smoother. Very well, you leave me with no choice.” 

Xander had to laugh at that. 

 _Choice? Am I supposed to just choose to allow you to turn me into some guinea pig?_  

He knew the soldiers were coming this time, but he was no better prepared. Naked and defenseless, he was easily overpowered by the four men that entered the room. What followed was the worst beating he’d ever had, and he’d had a few to compare it to thanks to his father and the bullies at school. At one point he blacked out from the pain, but was quickly revived with a bucket of cold water. 

Then it began again. 

There was a distinct crunch when a steel-toed boot connected with his ribs. The arms covering his face were ineffective protection; by the end of his beating, both eyes were swollen shut and he was pretty sure his jaw was broken, or damn near. 

“That’s enough,” broke into the soldiers’ free-for-all and Xander gasped a sigh of relief that it was finally over. “Put him in the pit with Hostile 17. A few days down there should see an improvement to his attitude. When you’re finished, assemble the rest of your squad and sweep the campus. I _want_ those other werewolves.” 

“Yes, ma’am!” 

Xander let out a pitiful whimper as he was lifted between two soldiers with no regards for his injuries and unceremoniously dragged from his cell; there wasn’t a spot on his body that didn’t ache. 

A surreptitious glance around revealed a row of cells identical to the one he’d been locked in – white walls and a clear glass window and door combination that made up the front panel. All of them, save his and one other a few doors down, were filled with some type of demon or other. At either end of the room was a door leading somewhere unknown. Xander saw that he was being dragged to a third door. 

 _Probably not the exit._  

Sure enough, the door was keyed open by the lead soldier and then they were descending an indeterminable amount of steps. 

Even without preternatural senses, Xander was able to smell the foul odor before the door was flung open and he was shoved inside. No strength to speak of, he fell, landing on something that was hard and not alive, or at least not breathing. He tried to scramble up and away, and ended up rolling over to the accompaniment of the soldiers’ laughs. 

“Enjoy your stay, mutt.” 

Then the door was closed and he was locked away in the pitch black room. 

Unable to see, nearly gagging from the smell of decaying flesh, Xander remained where he was, legs tucked to his chest, shivering… struggling not to cry. 

He refused to give the bastards the satisfaction of seeing him break.


	3. 3

It was the chattering that woke him, and it took Spike a minute to figure out that the noise was teeth smacking together at a rapid clip. 

“Oi! Stop that! You’re givin’ me a bloody headache,” Spike muttered. 

Abrupt silence for all of two seconds, then it kicked in again. 

Clack. Clack. Clack. At a rapid-fire pace. 

Disoriented and weak, and aching all over, Spike still managed to sit up and look around. There was no light in the room but it posed no problem for him. He wrinkled his nose upon spying all the demon bodies lying around, their guts torn open in various stages of examination. 

In the middle of it all was the Slayer’s boy – he struggled to recall his name, but drew a blank – curled up on the floor, shaking uncontrollably. He was muttering to himself in between the chattering, too faint and incoherent even for vampire hearing to make out, and Spike shuffled closer, pushing past the bodies littering the floor. 

 _“…a monster… not a monster… not a monster…”_  

The boy’s eyes were squeezed shut, as if to block everything out, and he didn’t register the hand Spike laid on his shoulder. 

From the smell of him, the boy had been worked over real good by the soldiers. Spike could easily smell the blood, still oozing in some places, dried in others. Rather than let it go to waste, Spike bent down and cleaned him as best he could, ignoring the boy’s pitiful whines when he was shifted about. When he was finished, Spike sunk his fangs into the arm he held and helped himself to some more – just enough to feel bones and flesh start to heal. 

He couldn’t kill the boy, at least not yet. He was going to need some help if he had any hope of escaping. 

And, saving one of the Slayer’s own should give him a free pass off the Hellmouth once he got out. 

Feeling somewhat better now that he had the barest of plans, Spike hunkered down behind the boy and cheerfully leeched some of his body heat. He’d been naked for far too long and he was bloody cold. 

“Shush, boy,” Spike murmured sometime later, unable to sleep for the youth’s constant shivering, and he surprised himself by the gentleness in his voice. 

That paled in comparison when the boy shuddered once and lay still. 

~*~*~*~*~ 

Xander had a brief mental freak out when he woke and still couldn’t see. It took his brain a minute to remember that he’d been tossed into an unlit room by the soldiers. Breathing slowly and deeply, he willed himself to relax, and it worked until— 

“Better then?” 

Even with the pain his body was in, Xander managed to jerk away and turn over. He still couldn’t see anything, but he would remember that voice anywhere. 

“S-spike?” 

“I’m flattered. You remember.” 

“Of course I remember,” Xander snapped, winced when his lip split open again. “You’ve only tried to kill me on numerous… oww… occasions… ” His voice petered out on a wheeze, which turned into a coughing fit. 

“I’d ease up on the talking, if I were you. You’ve got some busted ribs.” 

 _No kidding._  

Xander keeled over, gingerly holding his arms against his side, willing the pain to subside. There was a bit of rustling off to his left and he figured it was Spike moving about – or at least he hoped it was Spike. 

“Spike? It’s just us in here, right?” 

“Us, and a whole lot of dead demons, yeah.” 

“Okay… I didn’t need to know that,” he muttered to himself. His lungs protested him talking again and he coughed a few more times. 

He nearly jumped out of his skin when Spike leaned down and told him to, “shut up already. You’re no use to me dead.” 

Xander’s venomous look was probably lost on the vampire. Although, of the two of them, Spike was the only one that could probably see. 

“Lift your arms.” 

“Wha—?” 

“I said, lift your bloody arms, you git. I’ve got something to bind your ribs.” 

“Do I wanna know…?” 

“Prolly not. At least it’s clean. Now, shift up. And try not to scream.” 

Xander snorted but did like Spike asked. 

Spike was right, it did hurt, but once the makeshift bandage was wrapped around his middle and tied off, he felt somewhat better. 

“Now what?” 

Even with the situation as dire as it was, he felt a bit better knowing that he wasn’t alone. Attempting to come up with a plan to get the hell out of where he was took his mind off the pain he was feeling. 

“Now I’m gonna take your hand and move you out of the middle of this carnage. I’ve cleared a space near the door.” 

Xander swallowed and was grateful he couldn’t see. Spike’s grip was firm and reassuring in his, and he was almost solicitous in his manner as he directed Xander across the room and got him settled against the wall. 

Spike was quick to retreat, and Xander could hear him shifting things while muttering to himself. Then a triumphant, “Yes!” 

A tiny snick sounded and then Spike’s face was illuminated in the dark and he had a… cigarette dangling between his lips. 

“Bloke musta’ bought it before the soldiers could have their fun and they just dumped him down here without even going through his pockets.” 

The lighter snapped off after Spike lit his cigarette, and Xander immediately missed the light, but he bit back an entreaty to cut it back on. Instead, he concentrated on the small red dot as Spike bent over the body he’d confiscated the cigarettes from. 

“Wha-what are you doing?” 

“I’m stealin’ his pants. ‘pears to be about your size… unless you’d rather have your bollocks blowin’ in the wind?” 

 _Wear the dead demon’s clothes or go naked?_   _A no-brainer._

“Yeah. Okay.” 

Spike smiled around his cigarette and walked back to him carrying the stolen trousers. “Not as stupid as you look. Here. Need some help?” 

Xander assessed the pain in his ribs and other parts of his body. “Maybe. Gimme a hand up?” 

Strong hands lifted him carefully to his feet, mindful of his injuries. 

“Hold onto my shoulders and step in, one foot at a time. Try not to bend over.” 

Xander followed Spike’s directions and before he even had time to be embarrassed, the pants were up around his hips and Spike had stepped back, leaving him to fasten them. 

“Thanks.” 

Spike didn’t reply, just moved away and started rifling through the bodies again – or so Xander assumed. It wasn’t long before Spike had rejoined him, his back to the wall, his legs stretched out in front of him as he finished off his cigarette. 

“So, any idea how we’re gonna get out of here?” Xander asked. They were once more enveloped in darkness. 

“Figured I’d just kill anything that gets in my way once the soldiers have finished having their fun and come get us.” 

“And the tasers, the tranquilizer guns?” 

“Hadn’t thought that far ahead. Then again, they may just let us rot down here with the rest of the castoffs.” 

“Scary, but I almost prefer that to what The Bitch has planned for me.” 

“The Bitch?” 

“You know, the psycho mad scientist that shows up on our monitors.” 

“Ah… right. What about the Slayer? Any chance she’ll find out about this place?” 

“A super-secret military base located somewhere on the Hellmouth? I hate to say it, but I doubt it.” 

“What do they want with you anyway? Wouldn’t think they’d want to piss off the Slayer by stealin’ one of her mates.” 

“Didn’t you get the memo? I got bit. Next full moon, I’m gonna sprout hair and a wicked set of teeth. And can you believe it was because I was trying to save Miss Psycho up there? How’s that for the good ol’ Harris luck?” 

“A Were, huh? Thought you smelled a bit off. Tasted a bit funny too.” 

“I tasted funny?” Xander squeaked. 

“Just a sip. Was a bit worse off than you. You never even felt it.” 

“Well, from now on… no more sips… _or_ gulps, for that matter. You keep your fangs to yourself.” For good measure, he waved a finger in Spike’s direction.


	4. 4

Three days later, and Xander was rethinking what he’d told Spike about his fangs. He was weak, dehydrated, never mind hungry. Spike wasn’t much better off; the blood in the various demons littering the room had congealed making it difficult, if not impossible to feed. In addition to the room smelling of decaying flesh, which was enough to cause his eyes to constantly tear, now it was beginning to smell like a porta-potty. 

His embarrassment knew no bounds, even if Spike just shrugged his shoulders after leading him to the far corner of the room to take care of nature’s call. 

If The Bitch wanted to break them, she was pretty damn close. 

Another day or two of this and he’d be yes ma’aming with the best of them. 

Spike had just led him back from across the room and they collapsed against the wall. 

“Never thought I’d go out like this. Figured I’d meet the end from a Slayer’s stake. Fitting like, you know?” 

Xander gave a half laugh. “Well, hanging with Buffy, it was just a matter of time before my number was up.” 

“We’re a sorry pair. Done in by a bunch of military whatsits.” 

“Yeah,” Xander sighed and wearily closed his eyes. 

They jolted open when Spike squeezed his thigh. 

“What is it?” he whispered. 

“Company. About a half a dozen, give or take. Come on. We’ve got a better chance on our feet.” 

Spike stood up and then helped Xander stand. They swayed together, their legs shaky beneath them, as if they could barely support their own weight. 

The door banged open and the room was flooded with light and soldiers. Before either of them could voice a protest, they were hit with tranquilizer darts. 

“Damn. So much for your plan.” 

“Bloody hell.”

~*~*~*~*~ 

When they came to, they were strapped down to work tables, the cold metal hard and unyielding beneath them. 

“Hostile 23, I find it interesting that you allowed a vampire to feed from you. And you, Hostile 17, you didn’t kill him, which means you have a bit of self control. Interesting.” 

“Let me out of here, and I’ll show you how little self control I have,” Spike growled. 

“Yes, well, we’ve a new device I’m interested in trying out. Something that will allow us to control your natural tendencies. Thus far, none of my subjects have survived the surgery, but then, you appear somewhat older than the others.” 

Spike snarled and kicked out at his bonds, to little effect. He was pleased to see the woman bristle when he described in detail what he was going to do to her when he got free. 

“Gag him!” she snapped. 

The first soldier that got near him almost had his hand bitten off. Spike’s body arced off the table as his body was jolted with a tazer. 

“Leave him alone!” Xander yelled, pulling at his own bonds. Again he felt a surge of power well up from somewhere deep within. His right wrist restraint snapped under the force he exerted on it; the noise loud, almost like a gunshot, prompted the soldiers to action. 

He screamed when the tasers touched his body, further aggravating parts of him that had yet to heal from his last encounter. The pain was enough to make him buckle, but he was desperate to hang on, to get free of his bindings and make good his escape. 

“Somebody get the tranquilizer gun. Hurry, before he gets loose!” 

A feral snarl erupted from deep inside his chest, causing the hairs on his own neck to stand on end. The three remaining restraints gave way, and Xander jumped off the table and ran through the soldiers crowding around him to reach Spike. 

He clocked The Bitch on the way and while the others were busy seeing to her welfare, he loosed the bindings holding Spike to the table. 

What occurred next was nothing less than a slaughter, and Xander found that he had no sympathy for anyone in the room. He took up sentry by the double doors while Spike cast a bloody swath through the soldiers, saving the woman Xander had punched for last. 

He was surprised, though, when instead of sinking his fangs into her throat, he just snapped her neck. 

“We better put their uniforms on,” Xander told him. “It should buy us a little time. Also, check for a key card.” 

Spike nodded and found a soldier his size and started stripping him out of his clothes. 

Inside of five minutes they were striding out of the laboratory on the hunt for an exit.


	5. 5

“Where do you think you’re going?” Spike snapped, his hand on Xander’s wrist. 

“I’m going to Buffy’s. She and Giles—” 

“Will wind up captured just like we were. Think, boy.” 

“My name’s not ‘boy’, it’s Xander.” And having said that, Xander’s legs gave out and he would have crumpled to the ground if not for being caught by Spike. His eyes closed as his hold on consciousness faded away. 

Spike was just surprised the boy had lasted as long as he had and figured he’d have to carry him out of the military compound. But, Xander had held his own, and even lent a hand when they were besieged by a small platoon of soldiers just before they’d reached the exit. 

Thinking about the fight, Spike guessed that Xander might be suffering from shock. He’d killed a man, after all. Several, in fact. And he’d done it without flickering an eyelid. 

The boy had saved him, saved both of them. If Xander hadn’t pulled the trigger, they would have been overpowered and back where they started, instead of free on the surface – and from what he could see, near some sort of school. 

Spike scrambled behind a bush when he heard someone approach. He peeked through the foliage and saw two men draw near. The way they walked – purposeful and in step with each other – set him on edge and he used one hand to cover Xander’s mouth until they’d moved off and out of sight. 

Only then did he pick the boy up in his arms and hurry away, breaking into the first car he came across. He didn’t look back as he roared out of town, and he didn’t stop to wonder why he still had Xander with him. His sense of fair play only extended so far, or so he thought. What he should have done was dump the boy in the Slayer’s lap and leave the Hellmouth far behind. 

Instead, he had Xander passed out in the front seat, head resting on his lap and he was on his way to Los Angeles. 

He just prayed that Angelus was up for visitors… and in a forgiving mood. 

~*~*~*~*~ 

“Spike!” 

Spike rolled his eyes at Angel’s typical outburst and set Xander down in the chair in front of his grandsire’s desk. 

“Angelus. Glad to see some things never change.” 

“What are you doing here?” 

“Doing here? Oh, yeah… well, you help the helpless, or is it hopeless—?” 

“Spike.” 

“Look. The boy and I ran into a little bit of trouble and need a place to hide.” 

“And just what are you doing with Xander?” 

“I’m saving him. What does it bloody look like? Look—” 

“No, _you_ look, Spike. I don’t know what your game is, but it ends now.” Angel stood up and reached for the stake in his jacket. 

“I’m not playin’ any game. We’re in trouble. And, against my better judgment, I came to you for help.” 

“Right…” 

“Never mind. It was a mistake to think family means anything to you.” 

“Uh huh. And those hot pokers you stuck in me a few weeks ago was just your way of showing how much you cared?” 

“This is different. If you’re not going to help, can you at least let us crash here for the day, regain our strength? We’ll be gone come nightfall.” 

Something in Spike’s gaze –weariness and pain – must have penetrated Angel’s brooding exterior, because he relented and had Spike follow him to the elevator. 

“What’s wrong with him?” Angel asked, angling his head towards Xander as the elevator descended to the basement level. 

“You got a first aid kit handy? I’m probably gonna need to re-tape the boy’s ribs. The bindings came loose when we were fighting off the soldiers.” 

“Soldiers?” 

“Yeah. Part of that situation you’re not helping us with. Don’t worry your pretty little head about it.” 

Angel frowned but remained quiet. A moment later, they’d reached the bottom floor and he focused on opening the door, rather than on the silently fuming vampire and unconscious human he held. 

It was as Spike walked to the bed and set Xander down on top of the mattress that he realized what they were wearing, and that both were covered in blood. Angel got the first aid kit while Spike worked on getting Xander out of his clothes. 

“Just set it on the bed,” Spike told Angel when he sensed the vampire hovering nearby. “Got a knife, or some scissors?” 

“In the kit.” 

“Good, now bugger off.” 

“I’m not going anywhere.”

Spike frowned but didn’t refute Angel’s claim. Using the scissors, he quickly cut away Xander’s clothes and ignored Angel’s gasp when he got a look at the boy’s bruised and battered body. 

“Spike—” 

“Shut up. I told you we were in trouble, but you didn’t want to listen. Can’t help the evil demon, even if he’s one of your own, might put a blemish on that soul of yours.” 

“Spike.” There was an apology in the way it was said this time. Spike, too weak and worn down, relented. 

Spike said nothing as Angel came forward and helped Xander sit up so that he could re-tape his ribs. Thankfully, Xander slept through it all and didn’t even twitch when Spike got him settled under the covers. 

Spike was quick to strip out of his own disguise, feeling tainted somehow by the soldier’s uniform. Uncaring of the picture he presented to Angel, he slipped under the covers and sidled up to Xander. His eyes began to close as exhaustion took hold. Barely managed to get out a, “Don’t call the Slayer, her line may be bugged,” before he drifted off. 

Angel had had every intention of doing just that, but something in Spike’s tone made him hesitate. He still wasn’t sure why he hadn’t staked Spike outright as soon as he’d shown up, and he was still drawing a blank as to why he and Xander were together. Something about the boy was off, too, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on it. 

Once the two woke up, he fully intended to get his questions answered. 

All of them.


	6. 6

Spike was jarred awake when Xander cried out in his sleep. _Nightmare_ , he thought, and gathered the boy close to quiet his struggling. 

“Shhh, pet. I’ve got you. You’re safe now,” Spike murmured, brushed his lips across the boy’s brow. 

Xander whined, and Spike couldn’t help but agree; they’d both had their bollocks handed to them, but they’d survived. Eventually the nightmares would fade. And if Spike got his wish, there’d be a bit of bloody payback in the offing. Or a lot of it. 

“Spike?” 

Spike silenced his question with a kiss, and though Xander didn’t actively participate, he didn’t put up any protest either. After a minute, Spike reluctantly pulled back. Xander was staring up at him, curious and confused, but no longer afraid, his shivering having subsided. 

“Where are we?” 

“Safe.” 

“But where?”

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.” 

“Try me.” 

“Angel’s.” 

“You’re right. I don’t believe you.” His voice rose when he asked, “Are you _crazy_? No, don’t answer that. Obviously, you are. Angel? You brought us to _Angel’s_?” 

“It was safer than staying in Sunnydale,” Spike reasoned. 

“But _Angel_?” 

“Heard you the first time, mate.” 

“But—” 

Spike shut Xander up the only way he knew how; he kissed him again. His lips curved in a tentative smile when Xander’s arms slipped around his back and kissed him back. 

Even though he pushed him away a second later. 

“Okay, now I’m crazy,” Xander muttered and buried his face against Spike’s chest. A beat and then, “Spike, I’m naked.” 

“Had to re-wrap your ribs, didn’t I?” 

“I guess. And my pants?” 

“Had blood all over them.” 

“Oh. And yours?” 

“Blood.” 

“Oh. Then we’re…?” 

“Naked.” 

“Right. I’m obviously hallucinating.” 

“I can prove how much you’re not.” 

“No thanks.” 

“That’s not what your prick is saying.” 

“Don’t listen to it. I’m not.” 

“Suit yourself.” Spike shrugged, as if he didn’t care either way. 

“Spike?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Thanks.” 

“For what?” 

“For taking my mind off… you know. Spike?” 

“ _What_?” He was sounding exasperated now. 

“Maybe just one more kiss?” 

Xander got his kiss, and he ignored the fact that it was Spike, and that he was a guy, a vampire, and an evil one at that, and just allowed himself to feel. 

And boy _howdy_ , did it feel good. The expression “toes curled” came to mind. 

It was Spike that eventually pulled away, and shushed him when he would have spoken. Probably a good thing because Xander could feel himself gearing up for a babble to end all babbles. 

“Think you can sleep now?” 

Xander yawned, nodded, and closed his eyes. 

Spike smiled and did the same. 

~*~*~*~*~ 

The next time Spike woke, he could feel Angel’s eyes on him. He rolled away from Xander and sat up, pleased when the boy continued to sleep, smirking just a little when he reached out as if to latch on to him. Spike pushed his pillow in reach and Xander grabbed onto that instead. 

“I’ve got some blood in the microwave. Here, you can put these on.” Angel thrust a pair of silk pajama bottoms at him and walked into the kitchen. 

Spike slipped the pajamas on and rolled them up a couple of times to keep from tripping. As it was, they nearly fell down his hips, and he was forced to hold them up as he trailed after Angel. He plopped into one of the chairs and grimaced at the mug of blood, but drank it all the same. 

It surprised him that it was human, especially when he could smell the pig’s blood Angel was drinking. 

“Figured you needed it,” Angel replied to his quirked brow. “There’s a few more packets in the fridge.” 

“Ta, mate. Don’t suppose you have any fags layin’ about?” 

“No. Sorry.” 

“’s alright. I’ll pick some up when we leave.” 

“We?” 

“Me and the boy. Told you we just needed to have us a bit of a kip. We’ll be out of your hair soon as the sun sets.” 

“And you think Xander’s going to go with you?” 

“Not like he can go back to Sunnydale. It’d be like hanging a target on his back. And, as much as he _might_ hate me, I know it’s nothing compared to what he feels for you.” 

Spike thought of that last kiss they shared and smiled. 

Maybe hate was too strong a word. 

“This thing with Xander—” 

“Is none of your bloody business.” 

“Spike, I’d like to help if I can.” 

“And why’d you want to do that? Evil, soulless demon here.” 

“I’m not sure, really.” The expression on his face proved he didn’t. 

“I think that’s the first honest thing you’ve ever said to me.” There was no heat in Spike’s voice, just quiet resignation. 

“Yeah… well… call it a turned leaf, or whatever. But, if I help you, you’re bagging it. Your word.” 

“And you’d take it?” 

“Would you rather I have your blood oath?” 

Spike snorted and rolled his eyes. “I give you my word, I’ll stick to the bags while we’re here.” He raised his mug in salute. “The human stuff, though, none of that pig swill you’re drinking. Got standards, you know.” 

Angel frowned, but nodded. 

“Alright then. Guess I should start at the beginning, yeah?” 

Spike wished for a cigarette to give him something to do with his hands. He hated that Angel was going to see him rattled, and recounting his time spent with the military goons was definitely going to do just that. 

Once he started, the words came tumbling out – everything that he could remember about the secret base, and everything that was done to him. Through it all, he refused to look at Angel, and at one point he stood and began pacing. 

When he was finally finished, he flopped back in his chair and risked glancing Angel’s way. What he saw made him feel marginally better. 

Angel was mad. Furious, in fact. And it wasn’t directed at him, but towards the soldiers that had hurt him. 

“Right, well, I’m still knackered. Gonna catch a few more hours kip with the boy. Wake me when you have a plan.” 

Spike stood up and walked back to the bed, stripped out of the pajama bottoms and climbed back into bed. He scooted closer to Xander and chuckled when the boy latched on to him. 

There was time yet to woo Xander to his way of thinking.  

Taking down the military bastards that had hurt him was just going to be a bonus.


End file.
